


Love is a Five Letter Word

by notyourmartyr



Series: Love Is... [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Nothing to see here, just some feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourmartyr/pseuds/notyourmartyr
Summary: Love means something different to everyone, and is expressed differently.For Dean Winchester...
Series: Love Is... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053515
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Love is a Five Letter Word

His love is embedded in every inch of his skin - in every line and wrinkle, every freckle and scar. It wasn’t his first love, but damn close, and it’s written in the smallest essence, deep in his lungs, where bitter, acrid smoke twisted and clawed as he ran, leaving one love while carrying another. He doesn’t say it - not often enough, anyway - because the words feel heavy. Their intangible weight aches in his chest, trying to escape with every breath - every word laced with it and seems like it always has been.    
  
Sometimes the love is spoken with a smile, with a teasing jab at the other man’s expense. It’s in every peal of laughter that leaves his lips, and lights his eyes - meadows in spring sunlight. It’s singing off key as they coast down blacktopped ribbons of road between one seedy motel to the next. It’s  _ Home _ .   
  
Sometimes the love is explosive, spoken harshly - tinged with worry and fear or anger. It’s one close call too many, or the monster of the week getting the drop on them. It’s in the way he yells his name across a group of enemies, or growls it when they’re alone. It’s the  _ “What the hell were you thinking!?” _ and,  _ “You could have been killed, you know that?” _ White knuckles on the wheel with the radio off - the only sounds are the engine and their breathing, because he has to know he’s still alive.    
  
And sometimes, in the quiet, when he thinks his brother is asleep, it’s spoken softly. The hum of the motel’s air conditioner not quite drowning out the rhythmic breaths in the bed next to his, the soft, night time sounds of shifting between mostly clean sheets, and grumbling in a dream. And he whispers his name like a prayer, because for him it is - the closest thing to God he’s ever trusted - a man who was once a baby that he carried from a fire.   
  
For Dean Winchester, love isn’t a four letter word.    
  
It’s five.   
  
For Dean, love is  _ Sammy. _

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what to say about this one shot. I really don't. I had one idea in my head at work earlier today, and I kind of lost it, but not the tone, and then this happened, and I just needed to get it out of my system, and I'm not sorry.


End file.
